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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23505658">More Than A Woman's Work</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEmpressAR/pseuds/TheEmpressAR'>TheEmpressAR</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Death, Depression, Lost Love, M/M, Sadness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:48:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,539</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23505658</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEmpressAR/pseuds/TheEmpressAR</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally written in 2008 for The Whose Line is it Anyway Fandom WLiiA Love.   What happens after a beloved improver dies and the broken men he leaves behind.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Colin Mochrie/Ryan Stiles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>More Than A Woman's Work</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>Pray God you can cope…</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ryan felt the words as they took solidity and fell on his numbed ears and worked their way into his frozen heart. He stood rigidly still against the edge of the gaping hole before him. He twisted his prepared speech in his hands until it was nothing more than a worried bit of paper, his knuckles going white around it. He heard the words. But they had no meaning to him… </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>He approached the casket. Opened and desolate from the rest of the world. Resting silently on its display stand, its last visitor had made his way to the outside ceremony mere moments before. Its occupant had taken his final curtain call. Ryan came close to the rectangular resting place, knowing that it was not the final performance, but that the cold, hard ground would receive this beautiful offering, one that, if he had had any say in the matter, would not have willingly let it accept.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Ryan’s hand trembled on the single crimson rose he was holding as he came closer. His big hand wrapping around the fragile stem, carefully avoiding the thorns, but wishing that he would have been pricked, to feel something, anything, to make sure that he was still able to feel the pain he was sure he was supposed to be feeling.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>He closed his eyes, not willing to see; not wanting to accept what he knew would be there, what he would see. Not wanting to face the reality. Not wanting to believe. “Please God…” He whispered.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ooh…it’s hard on the man…now his part is over…</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>So pale. So deathly still and quiet his body lay before him. Hands folded neatly over his chest. Big, brown, full of hope, full of life, full of mischievous joy and mirth eyes, closed forever. How he would long for just one more look inside their depths…one more look of love shining through, shining back at him. The light is extinguished now.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>I know you have a little life in you yet; I know you have a lot of strength left…</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Ryan tenderly brushed a thumb across Colin’s lips. Their red life-giving sweetness now dulled to a soft lilac, a papery brittleness replacing the pliable suppleness that he knew by rote. He choked back a bitter sob. Now this he did feel. He looked at all the lines and soft wrinkles, memorizing them for the last time, the years of hard work and effort, his eyes settling finally on the snowy white remembrances of hair, haloed around the bald pate that earned them more laughs and hardships than they had thought possible. He wistfully smiled as he fingered the fine white hair around the curve of his ear and breathed. “Oh…</em>
    <em>Col.</em>
    <em>” </em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>His plaintive utterance echoed off the silent walls and Ryan chewed the corner of his lip to keep back the wail that threatened to overshadow him. He squeezed the hand that held the rose until he cried out seeing the blood before actually feeling the sharp stab into his flesh. He watched as one drop then another followed and coated the white tuxedo shirt his best friend was wearing. He couldn’t make himself move his hand. ‘A gift of my life to you…if only it were enough.’</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>He placed the rose on top of Colin’s chest between his hands. “Remember me.” He said pressing his hands around the flower. So cold. So cold. Where is the warmth? This isn’t right. Ryan turned and hurried away from the room. ‘I can’t…I can’t do this.’</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The others passed by the now closed casket in repose. Waiting patiently. Wanting its eternal rest. To be covered in the blanket of earth that will give its tenant peace. Will give its guest the relief he had been seeking for so very long. No more pain. No more hurt. They looked sadly down at it throwing a bit of the fine earth and paying their final respects to a friend, in the real sense of the word. A true friend. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ryan stood at the edge of the open grave. He wanted to throw himself inside. ‘Take me with you!’ He longed to say. He turned his face to the sky as the clouds opened up and a cool rain began to fall, chasing the sunshine away. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ryan reached down into the small hill of earth and grabbed a handful. He watched as Drew, Chip, Brad, Jeff, Wayne, and finally Greg passed, tears in their eyes and on their cheeks, holding onto one another some seeking the strong arms of solace and shuddering with grief and remorse. The anger finally reached the numb place in his heart. He shook from standing so still, from rage against the powers that be. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Goddamn you, Colin Mochrie.” He spat out between gritted teeth. The others looked up in shock at the sound of Ryan’s hollow voice. The gravelly tones reached their emotionally wounded bodies like an overpowering wave in an unquiet ocean. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Ryan…what…?” Greg’s tear-muted voice asked, disbelieving.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“How could he let this happen, Greg? How could he do this, to you to me, to all of us? Why the hell couldn’t he stop it?” Ryan said his voice cracking. Greg went over to him to try and put an arm around him, but Ryan would have none of it. He threw Greg’s arm away from him. “No…No…leave me alone. Don’t touch me. Don’t give me sympathy for something I didn’t earn.” He wiped away at the rain that coated his skin and blurred his vision. The small sprinkle had turned into an almost heavy pelting. They all stood in shocked silence for a moment. Six looking back at one. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ryan hastily threw his bit of sod upon the casket and hurried away, pushing past Greg and running solidly into Brad. Brad looked at him with eyes of pity, and a fierce protectiveness that Ryan knew was directed at Colin. That angered Ryan even more.   “Don’t.” Brad said gripping Ryan’s arms in his strong hands.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Let me go, Brad.” Ryan said struggling. He knew he had to leave or he would certainly turn this place upside down, further disrespecting a man who did nothing but bid respect a home within every molecule of his being.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Ryan. He didn’t deserve that.” Brad said, a disciplined calmness shrouding a caged ferocity ready to erupt if given cause. And the cause stood before him. Ryan looked back at Brad, vacant and empty. He wished Brad would hit him. Bring him the pain he desperately craved. He resigned himself when Brad just stood there. Staring back at him. Pity. No pity. “Go to hell.” He said and shoved him aside. He strode away and never looked back.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>I should be crying but I just can’t let it show,</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>I should be hopin’, but I can’t stop thinking.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>All these things I should say, that I never said;</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>All these things we should done, though we never did.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>All these things I should have given but I didn’t…</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I never said…goodbye.” Ryan said, pounding a fist on the worn wooden table in front of him. The dishes from several forgotten, or half eaten meals lay before him. Ryan buried his head in the crook of his arm allowing the bitter tears and body wracking sobs to wash over him once again.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>He had gone away. He had to leave. Had to think. Had to mourn in his own way. No one, save Greg, knew where he was. He only told Greg in case of an emergency. He had left him strict instructions not to come looking for him or checking up on him. Greg only promised Ryan that he would follow his demands, if Ryan would resurface within a month. He would come for him otherwise. Ryan reluctantly agreed. </em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Now he sat here at the small dining room table in the secluded beach bungalow he had reserved for an indefinite amount of time. How much time did one need to mourn the loss of a friend? A…friend.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>Ryan took long walks in solitude on the sandy beach that surrounded the property. Often for the better part of the day where he would wander and watch the ocean’s roar, pulling him, calling to him. His mind still numb and blank. He wouldn’t allow himself to remember. He was stubborn now. He remained stubborn for many weeks. He wouldn’t allow himself to break down not yet. He would often wander so far away from the bungalow that he would fall asleep under the stars counting them one by one. He didn’t think of Colin then either. He couldn’t bring himself to the pain he knew was lying beneath the surface. All the while he felt it there, as if he would turn some page in his mind and there it would be, waiting for him. Beckoning him.</em> </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>A call on the wind. The wind that blew the unruly curls of hair that now framed his face. He stared often at the night sky. Wishing on falling stars. The peaceful seclusion, away from sights sounds and people. Just Ryan. Just…Ryan….alone.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>And then there came the weeks, where crying never seemed enough. He cried, a dam of tears finally breaking the crack always there. The hole widening at the witnessing of a seagull circling lazily in the cloudless blue sky. Gliding on air currents…free…alive.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Ryan gave into the grief that had been threatening to rip him to shreds otherwise. The more he fought, the larger it grew.   He gave up the fight. He tore up the beach running, running, running….running. He collapsed upon the sand grabbing fistful after fistful screaming in agony. “WHY…WHYYY.” The tears flowing so free so openly on his face. His face a mask of despair, of hopelessness of…loss.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>They had grown apart. It was years since they had even talked on the phone. They had their jobs, their lives, their careers to think of. It was over something as foolish as Colin wanting to see more of the world bringing laughter to more places than Ryan was willing or able to allow himself to commit to. He stubbornly refused to go with Colin. Colin looked at him pleadingly, silently begging with his soulful brown eyes that always had a way of finding that extra soft spot in Ryan’s heart. The look that made him always smile his special “only for Colin” smile and hold him close agreeing to walk on the moon, if that’s what Colin wanted. This time though…</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Colin had settled for Brad, and although he loved Brad in his own way, he reluctantly took on the job, with a sad resignation that Ryan was unwilling to bend this time. Ryan bitterly cried out at his single-mindedness hindered him from knowing what could have been…what may have happened otherwise.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Years passed as years often do, in blinks of eyes. In many bookings, many commitments, many reasons for not reconnecting, many reasons for passing up occasions when even when it was possible to come up with an excuse for putting off the necessity of coming together.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>The call came one year. Ryan shook his head against the voices that threatened to scream out in chorus if he refused to give them audience. He relented.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>“I’m dying.” A hushed voice.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>I know you have a little life in you yet; I know you have a lot of strength left…</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>“What?...Colin…What?” An incredulous voice answers.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>“Will you come back to me now?” A trembling plea.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Ryan remembered looking down at the hospital bed. The form, a shadow of his former self, lay in a coma. The one that he would never wake up from. The hours spent by his bedside and not a single movement. The rise and fall of his chest on the respirators the only indication that he even had breath left inside. </em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I never said…goodbye.” Ryan said and with a howl swept everything off of the table and it came crashing to the ground, shattering into pieces. The pieces of his heart broken and shattered. He fell to his knees and raised his hands to the sky, heavenward. He beat his chest with a closed fist, and pulled desperately at his hair. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Of all the times he wished he had alcohol to dull and numb away the pain, he knew he had left it behind for just this purpose. He needed to feel. “Let me feel you.” He sobbed, and fell into a fitful sleep.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>A knock on the door the following day found Ryan curled into a fetal position, cold and stiff and with an aching back on the hard unforgiving floor. Ryan stretched and moaned wincing at the twinge in his back. He got up and went to the door confused. He rubbed at his sleepy, bleary, red-rimmed eyes, squinting against the light and the sting of too many tears.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He opened the door to a concerned and caring Greg Proops. He didn’t look much worse for wear, but he was better off than Ryan, he noted silently. Ryan’s hair was tangled, long and unkempt a few weeks growth of a beard on his face. “You’re looking…well.” Died on Greg’s lips. Sarcasm was not needed at the moment. Ryan turned angrily away from him. “I thought we discussed this, Greg.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I know…I know…Ryan.” Greg said hesitantly. His normally sure and steady voice held a warble of clemency and empathy. He reached a hand to the cold shoulder in front of him, holding back from giving the warmth he so desperately knew Ryan needed.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ryan stood at the glass double doors leading to the boardwalk that would take him down to the beach. The ocean that captured, heard and held onto his every woe and embittered regret, pulled it out into the deep blue sea and pushed back longing and sadness in waves upon him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Greg placed the package he had brought with him on the table and took note of the disarray of smashed dishes and uneaten food. The man before him was broken. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Ryan.” He said, his throat closing on a sob, threatening to escape.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I miss him.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Do you think you’re the only one?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You don’t understand.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“He was my friend too. And so are you. Don’t shut me out.” And the strangled cry that had been struggling for freedom finally broke free and Ryan turned and was taken aback by Greg’s sudden rush into his arms. He buried his face deep into Ryan’s neck and sobbed. A keening cry. A pair of burden-weary arms held on to Ryan weakly.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ryan stood there dumbfounded and reality hit him once again.  Sure he wasn’t the only one who cared about Colin. He had taken his guilt and self-loathing upon himself in a very selfish way and had refused to see anyone else’s hurt. The lamenting man in his arms was one of his dearest closest friends and he now realized…he needed Greg. Greg needed him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Oh darling…make it go…make it go away…</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>They hold onto each other for a long time. Just soaking up the hurt, filling the hollowness inside. They rested their forehead against one another’s and smiled into each other’s eyes, remembering promises made, and promises to be kept. They walked on the beach for hours, talking and coming to terms. Greg left in the evening with the promise that Ryan would soon follow his friend….just one more night.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ryan turned from the door and went back to the dining area. He needed to clean and prepare for the long journey home. He saw the package on the table. It was square, flat and wrapped in brown paper all done up with string…</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ryan took the package disregarding his chores and sat down on the couch. He unwrapped the package and stared down at the large photo album in front of him. A tear formed in the corner of his eye. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Memories…oh so many of them…rising up to grab him to pull him in, to lose himself inside them. Colin…Colin…Colin….the first time he met Colin. The first time they worked together. The first time they played together. The first time they loved together. All there in front of him. The looks the touches. The smiles, the laughter. All here. All for Ryan to remember, to grab onto to hold onto to never let go.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Give me these moments back.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Give them back to me…</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Give me that little kiss.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Give me your hand…</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ryan lifts up the album and something falls out onto his lap. It is a white envelope. Ryan looks at it with fascination and his heartbeat quickens. He reaches for it with shaking fingers. He sees Colin’s careful script on the front. He has to laugh at the way Colin tried hard for this. Being left-handed always left Colin with horrible penmanship, which Ryan was always the first to make fun of, not that his was any better.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He opens the envelope and takes out the letter and just holds it for a moment. He brings it to his nose and smells the paper, trying to catch a memory of Colin’s smell. He closes his eyes and tries to remember his smell, his touch…his hands were on this paper. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Dear Ryan:</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>I hope that by now, you have come to terms with the inevitability of my untimely departure, and are working your way toward being healed. I am sorry that I have brought any undo pain or hardship on you, believe me if there was any other way. I would have given everything I have and own to put off what I know must come.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>I always wanted the best for you Ryan. I never wanted anything more. I was so very proud of your successes in life. I watched you grow into the man you became, sure of yourself, strong and confident. I admired you always, even if it was from afar. I wish I had your leadership at times. I only wanted to pass my quiet sensibility on to you in times where situations required level-headedness, often where you were lacking.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>I wanted you to see me Ryan. I wanted you to know me. I wanted you to be with me. Some of the best times of my life were the times spent with you. Your laughter, your fun, your smile that lights up a room whenever you enter. I craved it all. I craved it like the air I breathe...all I need is the air that I breathe and to love you.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Let me close by saying,</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Never forget us, my dear friend. Never forget the love that we shared, the joy that we brought each other. Hold on to that. Hold on to us. I loved you. I love you still. I want you to find your happiness again. Find your peace and strength. Find your light behind my eyes. The light that shines there always.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Yours,</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Col</em>
    <em>…</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The tears that fell from Ryan’s chin as they coursed their way down his cheek dripped onto the ink of the letter mingling with it and Ryan was helpless to stop them. He was so completely overwhelmed with a flooding of emotion. He jumped up from the couch, the letter clutched tightly in his fist. He ran out to one of the crags that overlooked the vast ocean. The sea was calm. A gentle breeze ghosted along, caressing Ryan’s hair and skin, cooling him. But he was torn inside. He climbed to the top and stood there…battling with himself. He cried out...</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>All these things that you laid down for me</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>All these things that you wanted for me…</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Oh darling…make it go away…just make it go away…now.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
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  <p>“I have to move on. I know that is what you want of me. I know that’s what you’d want me to do. You wouldn’t want to see me like this. You wouldn’t want to know that I blamed myself. That I blamed me for letting you die. I can’t think like that anymore. I can’t let the memory of you be tainted with the memories of what I think I’ve done, of what I will become if I allow them to claim me. You wouldn’t want that. I will be strong now. For you. Oh, Col…I miss you so very much. But I can do this and I know that you will always be proud of me. I know that wherever you are now the light does shine behind your eyes and it brings me peace. I can move on now. I love you…goodbye.”</p>
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  <p>Ryan felt something like warm fingertips brush against his shoulder. It was feather-light and solid all at once. He was immediately awash with love and happiness. He turned quickly to the touch. Searching and for a moment he thought he caught the hint of a smile. He smiled and nodded in return, placed a hand over his heart and welcomed the feelings home.</p>
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